


tell me i'm your national anthem

by vaultingus



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, M/M, lana del rey - Freeform, national anthem, relationship, romantic, zayn malik/niall horan - Freeform, ziall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 11:10:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaultingus/pseuds/vaultingus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this is a oneshot ziall fanfic written in the style and characterization of lana del rey's "national anthem" music video.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tell me i'm your national anthem

**Author's Note:**

> so no, it has nothing to do with lana. it's simply capturing the feeling and some of the elements of her video and lyrics. i'd recommend watching the video first.
> 
> also, i love me some niall worship and adoring!zayn.

_i’m your national anthem  
god you’re so handsome_

he watches niall get dressed and bites his canine into his lip when niall lavishly rolls up this sleeves of his crisp shirt to just below the elbow and reaches for his cufflinks. they are as golden as his hair and his aura and zayn wants to know if he is bright on the inside too.

  
 _you look good, baby_  zayn says out loud and niall throws him a half smirk in response to this and takes a sip of the amber liquid resting on the dresser. the glass leaves a wet ring on the oak. the maids will have it cleaned up within the hour, zayn knows. he never worries about things like that anymore.

_he loves to romance them_   
_reckless abandon_   
_holdin’ me for ransom_

the tie around niall’s neck is the same silk that ties zayn to the bed when he has been  _bad_ and he feels the marks in his wrists for days after. niall owns every breath and broken bone and zayn tilts his head back  to see the blue in his eyes but they are always hooded and dark. the thought sends delicious shivers up zayn’s spine.  
  
 _he says to be cool but_  
 _i don’t know how yet_  
 _wind in my hair_  
 _hand on the back of my neck_

he looks up to see niall fill the doorway and he looks at ease with loose joints and loose lips and zayn hopes everyone at the party knows niall is  _his his his_. he stumbles over his own feet to pull out niall’s chair and bring him a new drink and niall presses a sticky sweet kiss right onto the skin around his mouth. zayn tries to pretend it isn’t to prove a single thing to the strangers milling around their home. they don’t owe these lovely people anything except open doors and fake smiles but zayn likes to feel claimed and licks his lips to taste niall on his skin. 

_i said can we party later on?  
he said yes yes yes_

niall was on fire the night they met with chemical energy and the euphoria of being unstoppable at such a young age. his reputation beat him to the punch but it took seeing him in person for zayn to know  _yes i will love him_. a few blurry hours later and zayn was almost on the ground to please niall, dancing around his knees and soaking in condescending crooked smirk from the blonde. niall’s hands were in the air and they were floating high above anyone. all that mattered was their skin when it touched and niall’s warm palms when they roughly pulled zayn against him. they were both against the chaste victorian wallpaper and zayn wondered if niall had personally picked it out before he was slammed mercilessly against it in a searching kiss.

niall must have found something he was seeking inside the darker boy because two hours later they were tangled in egyptian cotton with only the edges of their feet touching. zayn couldn’t sleep for a second that night as he wondered desperately if any of his life was real or if he was destined for a dollhouse existence forever. his only anchor was the sound of niall’s deep breaths from a foot away and zayn saw sparks above him with each rise and fall of niall’s perfect chest.

_red, white, blue’s in the sky_   
_summer’s in the air and_   
_baby heaven’s in your eyes_

zayn sees freedom in the gray of niall’s eyes; he sees the surface and he sees pools of something much more vicious underneath. he runs his fingers along niall’s lips when he wants to feel red, he wants to feel like he is burning until there is nothing left of him to recognize. he feels like a remnant when he is trapped in red and he sticks his tongue out and runs it along the chapped skin of niall’s lips and his vulnerable neck when he needs to know that he will change colors once again.  _this is what i want to become_  he says. he finds his pale white moods in the creases of niall’s elbows, in the soft space between his navel and the surprisingly gentle trail that stands like a warning:  _once you have a taste you will never be the same_. he feels positively angelic when niall rolls over in the morning and blinks at him before he has managed to put on his armor for the day; he feels like the sun may wait awhile before it gives way to the venomous night in which niall becomes enigmatic.  
  
 _while i’m standing over your body_  
 _hold you like a python_  
 _and you can’t keep your hands off me_  
 _or your pants on_  
  
of course zayn  _wants_  niall and gets him, too. their skin knows what to do when they move together and fall apart; they gasp out things they never mean in the dark and in the morning the words have already turned to dust. they talk like they did in the beginning, their words dripping with grand promises and implied pinky swears and zayn feels like he might own a little piece of niall when they get like this. niall already owns everything but sometimes zayn thinks maybe he has something to offer that can’t be purchased in green or gold or sly winks and handshakes.

 _see what you’ve done to me  
  
_ when niall isn’t happy  _oh_  the whole world knows and glass is broken and the silences stretch thin between the heat of his glare and the set of his mouth.  _none of this is a fucking game_ zayn always realizes in the heat of the moment and sometimes he feels fingers of fear grab his skin and leave bruises. they heal in days but leave him shakier each time and sometimes he closes his eyes and wishes he could be brave on his own.

_on our drugs and our love_   
_and our dreams and our rage_   
_blurring the lines_   
_between real and the fake_

drugs are their breakfast some days and their midnight snack on others. their house is seldom empty of beautiful people in gloves and pins and gold leaning over to claim the rush that is rightly theirs. zayn likes to blow cool breaths on niall’s temples when he overheats from all the excitement and niall likes to run his thumb deliciously over the inside of zayn’s thighs when they are connected in the clouds. their only rule is to never look back.  _that’s all over now_ zayn thinks; the powder and the pills help him move forward faster. they move at light speed and they never have time to turn their heads from side to side.  
  
 _dark and lonely  
i need somebody to hold me_

zayn whispers in niall’s ear that they should escape and be alone and niall grabs him up greedily. they traipse out to the cold sand of the beach and dip their toes and fingers in the salt. it burns on a cut that zayn got last week and niall lifts zayn’s hand and presses his lips into the flesh as if he can tell. he can always tell. zayn supposes his face is an open book most days and his hands tell the rest of his story, but he feels warm when niall remembers to take care of him like zayn takes care of him.  
  
 _money is the anthem_  
 _god you’re so handsome_  
  
niall starts to lose himself when he starts to lose the money. zayn sees his fingers tremble as he curls in on himself; he goes somewhere zayn can’t touch him anymore. niall’s voice is quiet without the weight of currency to back it up and he loses his shine day by day. he used to be the stars and the moon but mostly the sun; zayn revolved around him and soaked in his light. he used to talk sweet like sugar but now it is all poison, it drips from his lips and numbs their words and their kisses and zayn can feel him—a dying flame. niall is burning out and zayn is getting colder. the space in their bed speaks volumes and zayn brings out an extra blanket to make up for these freezing gaps.

 _and i remember when i met him it was so clear that he was the only one for me. we both knew it right away, and as the years went on, things got more difficult. we were faced with more challenges. i begged him to stay._  

one day their house holds more echoes than life and zayn just knows before he even ventures inside that he has lost niall. all his things stand perfectly in place but zayn can feel they have been abandoned by their owner. he loses sensation in his arms. he finds the note on the edge of the dining room table. one month ago it had been filled with glittering smiles and warm skin; now it stands stark and empty with only lace to keep it company. zayn stands in the entrance for minutes or hours staring a hole in the hastily torn piece of paper. he will move when he is ready.  
 _  
_ _he was charismatic, magnetic, electric and everybody knew him. when he walked in everyone’s head turned, everyone stood up to talk to him_.

zayn remembers meeting those blue eyes over seas of shadow people.  
  
he remembers the ring niall wore that would scratch his skin and leave him stinging for days.  
  
he remembers wanting to burn the piles of money that pinned niall down eternally; he knows now he was never number one. even though he offered up his whole soul to niall, it wasn’t enough to keep him happy. only lifeless paper and plastic could fill the cracks in niall’s bones, never zayn. not zayn.

_i always got the sense that he became torn between being a good person and missing out on all of the opportunities that life could offer a man as magnificent as him. in that way, i understood him.  
_

zayn looks back on the cloudy days spent driving around, how his heart would swoop when niall finally turned toward him and really  _noticed_. he remembers trying to be beautiful for niall, trying to be just right so niall would toss out a compliment that he could hold tightly to until the next one came along.  
  
 _doll, don’t you look so good for me today_ he would say as zayn adjusted the edges of his black suit.

 _i’m going to have trouble keeping my hands off you tonight_ he would hiss warmly into zayn’s neck before they entered the party.

 _then don’t_  zayn would plead, his voice absolutely wrecked with longing.  _then fucking don’t keep your hands off me.  
_

and niall wouldn’t. he would finally ravage zayn and make him scream out into the empty air before forcing a palm over his mouth.  
  
 _not a sound_ niall would demand as he bit love and hate into zayn’s collarbone.  _are you going to be a good boy for me?  
_

he would tease crookedly as he held his mouth a centimeter above zayn, who nodded fiercely and forced his hips upward to meet niall’s hot, wet mouth. it felt like such a treat wrapped around him, taking him in and spitting him out again, used and helpless. zayn would tuck in niall’s shirt for him when they were done; he’d button his trousers and straighten his hair and they would slip back into the unassuming crowd, their lips shiny and their irises glazed with lust. they would do it again later, and again after that, each time spinning more out of control.

 _and i loved him_  
 _i loved him_  
 _i loved him_    
  
it was more complex than love. love was what nervous sixteen year old boys wrote in valentine’s day cards and love was what people smiling and holding hands in the park felt. this was pure need; this was rage and euphoria and it was manic. it felt like being trapped on a roller coaster for days but each time the final plunge came, they would beg to stay on. they never learned any differently.

they didn’t know how to be different.  
  
they didn’t know how to be better.  
  
 _and i still love him_

 _i love him  
  
_ zayn bites down on his lip until he draws blood. the note is too short to say anything real at all. half of the paper is taken up with niall’s signature; the one he saves for the bank and for contracts he can’t keep.  
  
 _i love him_

zayn feels an inky black fear settle into the cavity of his chest.  
  
he has no one.

he is nothing.


End file.
